


The Tale of Folly Var

by Spera_via



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Beginnings, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spera_via/pseuds/Spera_via
Summary: The story of how Folly left his home and found his path.





	1. Five Years

“I will not believe that the Affliction runs in our family!” 

Eist’var’neros, at five years old, frowned as he pressed his ear to the door. He knew his parents stood on the other side, opposite of his father’s ornate desk. The desk that the Aristocra was now sitting behind, fingers steepled over the dark wood. 

It was the Aristocra who was speaking. 

“You must be mistaken. Your son must be too active. Too curious. Find ways to rein him in.”

Tvarn could just see the tight expressions on his parents faces. They had both seen him floating objects before him. Walked in on him making chairs dance around the room. Desperately tried to calm him as, in a temper, he made the room shake and the lights flicker around him. 

“What are you doing?” A voice hissed next to him. Tvarn jumped away from the door and spun. His second-cousin, twice removed, and two years his younger, grinned at him. Her short hair was pulled back away from her round face. Her name was Eist’ea’lasra, or Teal. Her ruby eyes glittered with amusement. Tvarn crossed his arms as she smirked at him.

“I’m not doing anything.” He snapped quietly. 

“Apparently you’re being too ‘overactive.’ “ she stated, giving him air quotes around the word ‘overactive.’ He blinked at her before grinning. 

“Climbing trees again?”

“I don’t see why they don’t cut that old one down.”

“Well, only you are foolish enough to climb it.”

Teal considered this for a moment before shrugging, making Tvarn laugh. Together they left the door.


	2. Seven Years

Tvarn stood in the dining room, the cold weight of fear settled in his stomach. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides in an attempt to stop them from shaking. 

He had lost his temper over something irrelevant. Something Teal had said to him. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the fact that the damage around him, was his fault. And he had done it without laying a finger on it all. 

The beautifully carved, dark wood, pride and joy of his mother's familial heirlooms had been lifted bodily off of the ornately carpeted floor. It had hovered uncertainly for a moment before rocketing into the wall.

The resounding crash had been deafening as splinters of wood went flying. The glittering chandeliers rattled as cracks rushed towards it. Tvarn had held his breath, as the room had settled. 

Then. Oh, terrible then. The stress of the weight of the beautiful chandeliers proved too much for the damaged ceiling. 

They had fallen. In slow motion. Two giant, sparkling, expensive, snowflakes drifting to the ground. Time seemed to speed up as they shattered against the carpet.

Tvarn stood, rooted to the spot, watching it all in horror. He trembled from head to toe as stared at the damage before him. He couldn’t turn to meet the stares of those who had opened the doors at the end of the hall. 

“Oh Tvarn…” He heard his governess say quietly. “What have you done?” 

Tvarn inhaled sharply and spun to stare at her. Her sad eyes met his wild ones. He could see the other servants peeking around the doors. He could see the fear in their eyes.

He ran.


	3. Ten Years

Teal skipped after him as they wandered through the ice sculptures. Snow fell softly around them, attempting to rest on the two. 

At ten years old, Tvarn had grown into a proper young man. He had taken solace in Chiss discipline and had found the more he suppressed his feelings, the less incidents he had. 

In fact, it had been over three months since his last one. Tvarn himself was almost daring to believe himself cured. 

“Did you hear me?” Teal had asked. Tvarn blinked and looked over at her. 

“No. Apologies.”

Teal sighed at him in exasperation. Her eyes twinkled playfully. “I /said/ ‘Have you heard about your assignment yet’?” The question made him stop in his tracks. His parents were head of the servants that served the Aristocra. He was being groomed to take their shoes. 

“No… though I supposed I would be following my father’s footsteps.” He said to her with a thoughtful frown. “I had forgotten that my first assignment was coming up.”

“I start SWAT training next year.” Teal told him.” It was Tvarn’s turn to shake his head. 

“Sometimes I forget you are above my station.” He said to her. “Destined for greater things.” He swept his hand before him, as if gesturing to her future. 

Teal chuckled lightly and pushed him gently. Tvarn, grinning, ducked away from her next shove. 

They were laughing, openly now, among the ice sculptures that rose elegantly from the snow covered garden. Teal bent and scooped a snowball. In a fluid motion, she rose and sent it sailing towards him. Tvarn, still grinning, raised a hand to swat the snowball out of the air. 

It froze between them. Hovering eye-level off the ground. 

The mirth dropped from them both. Through his dread, Tvarn could see worry on Teal’s face instead of fear.

“Tvarn!”

The snowball dropped into the ground as Tvarn’s mother called to him. Teal stepped forward and kicked the snow over the impression the ball had made as Tvarn turned. The two blinked in surprise at the older woman who stood hugging her shawl around herself in the open doorway. Her eyes crinkled warmly as she looked at them.

“Lady Eist’ea’lasra, your mother is looking for you.” Teal blinked and nodded, murmuring for them to excuse her. She shot Tvarn another worried glance before turning and wading through the snow back the way she came.

Tvarn, hesitated a moment longer before walking over to his mother. She pulled him inside, pushed him out of his coat, and began to brush the snow from his hair. 

“The Aristocra is here.” She told him quietly. Her hands moved quickly, softly. She began to sweep dust from his clothes. Tvarn could hear the excitement in her voice. “He wanted to see you, make sure you were… ready to receive your assignment.” 

When she was satisfied he was presentable, Tvarn’s mother cupped his face in her hands, forehead creased in worry. 

“Please keep your temper, Var.” She said to him, using his own name. The name reserved for family and lovers. “I could not bear it if something were to happen and the Aristocra had you exiled.”

Tvarn studied his mother’s face. While she was tall and thin, he was taller still. He nodded. What felt like an iron band began to twist itself around his chest. His mother released his face and used his shoulder to hoist herself up on her toes. She kissed his cheek before dropping back down and adjusting his collar. 

“Come. I will lead you to them.” 

He followed his mother through their wing of the Eist House Manor. He followed her into the quiet tea room.  
The curtains over the large windows were pulled back to reveal the snowy landscape- the landing pad and the evergreens that dotted the front yard of the manor. 

The Aristocra sat at a small table next to the window. The china clinked as he stirred his tea. Up close, the man was as impressive as he was when viewing him from afar. A broad man across the shoulders, and tall like the rest of the family with bright eyes and deep silver hair. Tvarn’s father stood a few feet away, tea towel draped over his forearm. The man that Tvarn had always looked up to, admired and aspired to be like seemed thin and fragile next to the Aristocra. Tvarn was glad to see that the kind glimmer in his eye was still there.

Tvarn swallowed loudly. 

“Aristocra.” Tvarn’s father murmured quietly. The Aristocra looked up. 

“Your son?” He asked. Tvarn’s father nodded. He shot Tvarn a look that told the young man to present himself. Tvarn’s mother gave him a gentle push. 

The young man stumbled forward before he caught himself. He bowed.

“I am Eist’var’neros.” He said, pleased his voice didn’t waver. “I was told you requested my presence. It is quite the honor, Sir.” 

Aristocra Eist nodded as Tvarn righted himself.

“Have you gotten yourself under control then?” He asked. Tvarn blinked.

“Sir?”

“Your parents have dealt with this hyper-activity of yours?” 

Tvarn blinked at the question. His graze flickered over to his father who was giving him a pleading look. He heard his mother shift- presumably to fold her hands before her as she was wont to do. He nodded at the Aristocra. 

“They have worked hard to turn me into the man I am today.” He said. The Aristocra studied him for a long moment.   
“I can see that.” He stated bluntly. Tvarn blinked, unsure of how to take that comment. 

“How are his studies?” The Aristocra had turned to look at Tvarn’s father. Tvarn took the opportunity to glance at his mother, who shook her head at him.

“Very well. He is the top of his class in academics.”

“Hm. Surprising seeing as he is a servant’s son, but fair enough.” 

Tvarn clenched his fists at his sides. His father had taught him how to do arithmetic. His mother spent many nights fostering his love of reading. How was his education surprising? He blinked as he realized the Aristocra was speaking to him.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” 

A frown of disapproval. 

“Servant’s son indeed. I asked you why you think you are qualified to work as a member of House Eist.” 

“I was raised by the head of your staff.” He responded quickly. “I have grown up knowing the rules, the protocols. I was born to take my father’s place.” Tvarn looked over at his father who gave him a small smile. The older man nodded encouragingly at his son. Pride blossomed in Tvarn’s chest.

“I should have hoped that the head of my staff would have produced less troublesome offspring.”

“I have worked hard to right my wrongs… Sir.” 

The Aristocra stopped and looked at Tvarn. “You speak when you are given permission to.” He stated simply. Tvarn heard his mother’s sharp intake of breath behind him. He pursed his lips and nodded. 

“Good. And the rumors of your Affliction. You are to put an end to those. We will not have Affliction run in our family.” Tvarn nodded again as the Aristocra repeated himself from all those years ago. The Aristocra turned to look at Tvarn’s father. 

“He seems well adjusted, Trinze.” the Aristocra said. “I'm glad I didn't have to cull the source.” he chuckled. Trinze smiled tightly in response. Tvarn watched his father glance towards his mother. They shared an anxious look over his shoulder. 

“What do you mean by that, Sir?” Tvarn blurted, set on edge by his parents apprehension. “Are you saying you’ll exile a member of your own family?” 

The Aristocra frowned.

“Oh, the Affliction wouldn’t have come from the Eist side of your blood.” His gaze drifted over Tvarn’s shoulder to his mother.

The chandelier began to tremor.

“Are you saying you’ll tear apart my family to hide the fact that someone is Afflicted?”

“Tvarn…” He heard his mother’s soft voice behind him. A warning. His father had pressed his lips together, bright eyes wary. Trinze shook his head at his son. The Aristocra took no notice of the quivering chandelier, all his focus on Tvarn. His voice was calm. 

“How can they be a part of our House if their blood taints it?” He asked.

The tremors grew. A light tinkling from the hanging crystals began to sing delicately above their heads. 

“They have spent their life serving you.” Tvarn said, his voice shaking. “And you would tear us apart because you fear something you do not understand?” 

“I do it to protect our House. A notion I do not expect a servant’s son to understand.” 

A loud crash. The ceiling caving in. The floor shaking. His mother’s shriek. The Aristocra’s yelling. His father’s fearful look.

The next thing Tvarn could remember was his mother pulling him by the arm away from rubble. His father digging through bits of ceiling to reach the Aristocra, whose muffled shouts could be heard from below.

Time seemed to blur. His mother packed a small bag and dragged him out of the house, speaking words he only caught phrases of. 

“You must go Tvarn.”

“They will exile you.”

“Don’t worry about your father and I. We will calm the Aristocra.”

“I love you Tvarn. Your father does too. Never forget that.” 

Her hands on his face. Her kiss on his cheek.

He watched his mother shrink as his shuttle rose into air. Watched his homeworld vanish as his ship sped to Korriban. Arriving with the other initiates, blinking into the hot sun of the planet.

“Next!” 

Tvarn looked around. He had never seen so much red.

“Next!” 

Or dust.

“For the love of- Hey! Blue!” 

Tvarn blinked and looked at the man in front of him, an overseer. The overseer glared at him like he was stupid and waved him over. Was the oppression he felt from the overseer’s attitude? Or was it just heavy in the air?

“Got a name, Blue Skies?” 

Tvarn blinked, his mind adjusting to a language he had only practiced in books. When he understood the words, another realization hit him: He could pick his own name. What name fit? He didn't want to give his full name. Exiled for sure, they probably had stripped him of it the moment the chandelier fell. 

“C’mon kid! We don’t have all day.”

What name would fit him? What name would encompass all he was- what was he? A blemish? No, that didn't sound as cool. A… a… mistake? A folly. A folly! A foolish decision. 

“Uh… Var… Folly. Folly Var.”

The overseer typed in his name and waved him away.

“Next!”


End file.
